


Newspaper Hearts

by Celia_and



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Preschool Ben and Rey, Valentine's Day, Weddings, happy ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:29:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29456760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celia_and/pseuds/Celia_and
Summary: “She made her Valentine’s cards. She tore hearts out of newspaper and glued them onto used envelopes and painstakingly wrote each child’s name. She probably spent days making them. And you know what she wrote on mine?”He doesn’t need to read it to know what it says, so he looks down at her instead, and the hand on her heart and the tears in her eyes.“Ben: You are OK. Rey.”
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 70
Kudos: 376
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	Newspaper Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a @reylo_prompts [prompt](https://twitter.com/reylo_prompts/status/1357056265109856257) on Twitter:
> 
> Ben makes a confession in his wedding speech. He knew he was going to marry Rey when he and Rey were 4 years old and she gave him a Valentine she made and colored herself. And 21 years later, he still has that Valentine.

Her eyebrows shoot up in a surprised question when he clears his throat and stands. He holds his glass so he has something to do with one hand, at least. He doesn’t like public speaking, but he loves her, and she’ll love this.

His Rey. His wife. He takes a breath.

“Thank you all for coming and celebrating with us today.” His voice doesn’t shake too much. “I know it’s not customary for the groom to make a speech, but I have something I want to say, if you’ll indulge me.

“You know that Rey and I met in college, in a dorm shower mishap that I won’t go into detail about because I’m sure it makes up a good chunk of Poe’s best man speech, and I wouldn’t want to deprive him.” There’s an appreciative chuckle throughout the room.

“What most of you probably don’t know is that we knew each other before. A long time before. I first met Rey when we were four years old.” He glances down and she’s beaming up at him, and the flowers he tucked in her hair are askew and neither of them cares in the slightest.

“Now you can ask my mom and she’ll tell you: I hated preschool. I mean _hated._ I would beg not to go, I would throw tantrums, I ate dog food one time to try to make myself sick enough that I could stay home.” He grins down the table at Leia. “It didn’t work.”

He looks back up at the crowd of people who love Rey. And him. “I hated preschool because I didn’t have a friend. Everyone else had paired off and left me alone. I pretended that I didn’t mind, that I preferred playing by myself, but I did mind. A lot.

“And then Rey arrived.

“The first thing I remember about her was how angry she was. This tiny spitfire with lopsided pigtails. She had a chip on her shoulder that should’ve been too big for any four-year-old to carry, but she did. She intrigued me. I didn’t know what to make of her. And all of a sudden, I didn’t mind going to preschool anymore.”

She reaches up to stroke his back and leaves her hand there for a minute.

“One day on the playground I put some woodchips on a leaf and tried to give them to her as a present. She didn’t like it too much. She threw it away.”

The crowd awwws and chuckles, and Rey laughs ruefully beside him.

“But that didn’t stop me. Every day I would find something on the playground to give her, and every day she would throw it on the ground. One day I found a pristine, empty snail’s shell, and I was so excited to show it to her. She threw that away too—right in the mulch.

“It’s now occurring to me that this part of the story doesn’t paint my wife in the most flattering light, but if you’ll just bear with me another couple minutes, I promise it gets better.”

There’s a real laugh at that, and Ben might be better at public speaking than he thought.

“This went on for weeks, months, I don’t know. Until Valentine’s Day. We were allowed to bring in Valentines as long as we got one for everyone in the class. My mom bought a pack from the store, plus pink cookies and heart balloons and probably spa gift cards for all the teachers.

“Rey didn’t have any of that.”

She reaches for his hand to squeeze, and she doesn’t let go.

“She made her Valentine’s cards. She tore hearts out of newspaper and glued them onto used envelopes and painstakingly wrote each child’s name. She probably spent days making them. And you know what she wrote on mine?”

He has to set down his glass so he can reach into his suit pocket where an old envelope waits, carefully folded. The newsprint has rubbed off of some of the hearts.

He doesn’t need to read it to know what it says, so he looks down at her instead, and the hand on her heart and the tears in her eyes.

“Ben: You are OK. Rey.”

The tears spill out when she laughs. She wipes her nose messily with the back of her hand, and Ben tenderly strokes her cheek with a thumb that belongs to her, now, because all of him does.

He looks back at the assembled crowd, who are similarly split between tears and laughter. “So naturally, in the car on the way home from preschool that day, I told my dad that I was going to marry her.”

Han guffaws gruffly. Ben grins at him. “He glanced over at the card in my lap, nodded solemnly, and said, ‘Nice one.’ So I knew I had his blessing.

“And he told my mom, and she took one look at the card and fell in love with Rey probably as much as I had, and when I grew up and went to grade school and mostly forgot about the angry girl with the lopsided pigtails who I was going to marry, my mom didn’t. She kept the card.”

Leia is beaming at him through tears.

“She saved it, probably so she could pull it out one day and remind me of the story of my long-lost preschool love. But instead, when I went to visit her a year ago, she didn’t just give me my grandmother’s ring. She went into her closet, pulled out a shoebox, and took out an old envelope. My first love letter, from the first and only love of my life.”

He takes a deep breath and looks down at his wife, and forgets what else he was supposed to say, so instead he says the only thing he can think of.

“I’ll love you forever.”

There are tears and whistles and applause, and she tugs him down to his chair so she can kiss him and he can wipe her cheeks, and she rummages around under the table to find her purse, and he thinks she’s probably getting tissues.

But then she extracts something and presses it small and round into his palm and somehow he knows even before he looks what it is. Because he found her and she loves him and nothing is impossible. Not even this:

The snail’s shell.

**Author's Note:**

> A few delightful pieces of art inspired by this little Twitter fic:  
> [Ben and Rey then and now](https://twitter.com/LIMYONGLE3/status/1357380555491319809)  
> [Valentine, rings, and snail shell](https://twitter.com/ReadsVictoria/status/1357427127155531776)  
> [Valentine exchange](https://twitter.com/reylographer/status/1361023903334809600)


End file.
